Bjorn: Teutonic Knights MC

by Carmen Faye

  “Come on, tough guy. Show me what you’ve got,” she growled playfully, her eyes roaming over his body, itching to feel his hard, contoured, body pressed into hers as he shoved that huge cock inside of her.

  He threw himself into the bed, then steered her head toward his cock as he pulled her hips around, lifting her over his head before pulling her down.

  They pleased each other for many long moments, grunting and gasping as they dueled with their mouths. With a growl he twisted onto his side, their mouths still busy as they battled, each determined to make the other come first.

  She was losing the war of pleasure. She hadn’t had an orgasm in several days and he was pleasing her like few men had been able to. The feel of his taut, hard, body against hers and her fantasies coming true were twisting her up, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

  He began to thrust into her mouth, grunting as he fought against the pleasure of her mouth and tongue on his cock, and the tingle of her nails gently scratching his balls. He’d hoped the change of position would give him some respite, but Peyton was wearing him down, her gasps and grunts as she thrust at his face getting to him.

  She howled her orgasm around his cock, refusing to give up, squeezing her eyes closed as she fought through the rapture, still plunging him between her tightly gripped lips, tingling with erotic energy, when he barked, an ocean of come filling her mouth.

  Her muffled cry around his cock, refusing to yield, refusing to give up as she came, just as she refused to give up when fighting with Honey, pushed him over the edge. He thrust his hips forward, driving his cock deep into her mouth as she reached around and gabbed his ass, holding him deep as he spilled wave after wave of semen into her mouth.

  They relaxed out of their orgasms, panting and gasping in relief and the power of their climaxes. Ironside was the first to recover, rolling back over so Peyton was on top. She lay on him, his cock pressed against her cheek as she panted, waiting for her strength to return. She moved off him and turned in the bed to kiss him lustily. He returned her kiss, seeming not to mind his come in her mouth, his big hand going to the back of her neck and holding her lips to his as they devoured each other.

  He released his hold on the back of her neck, allowing her to pull back from the kiss. She smiled down at him. “I’m going to fuck you so good,” she teased, caressing his cock, taking the condom from his fingers and sheathing his sword.

  “You are?” he chuckled. “Maybe I’ll fuck you right back.”

  “You’d better,” she growled as she swung a leg over. “Oh my God…you’re so fucking big!” she cried as she slowly lowered herself over him. It was a good thing she was already warmed up or she wasn’t sure she could handle him.

  He let her settle, her face twisting as he slid into her, then she relaxed and smiled down at him. She wasn’t the tightest woman he’d ever had, but she was able to take all of him, something not all women could do. He considered it more than a fair trade because that meant he could fuck the shit out of her without hurting her.

  She sighed as her ass settled on his hips. He felt so fucking good, stretching her like never before and caressing her deep as she began to work her hips. He was just touching her cervix, something nobody had been able to do from this position, and it felt fantastic. “Oh, fuck,” she gasped, her head falling forward as she leaned on her hands.

  “What?”

  “Nothing…you feel so good,” she whispered as she began to thrust harder.

  He smiled. Now that she was taking him, it was time. He slowly rolled her over, keeping his cock inside of her as they moved. She draped over the bed, her head hanging off. He hadn’t planned it that way, but it made her luscious breasts even more spectacular as they pulled taunt and firm. He twisted her hips and straddled her lower leg as he began to trust. He started out slow, pushing as deep as possible, but when she didn’t complain he smiled and began to drive into her with purpose.

  “I can’t take it!” she gasped, pulling her head up to watch this fucking god drive his cock into her hard and fast. She gripped her breasts, squeezing them, before growling loudly while shaking her head as she tried to fight off her orgasm. She pushed at him with her leg, trying to throw him off his stroke, wanting to get some breathing room, but her angle was wrong and he was too strong.

  He began to pant, one hand controlling her leg, the other tickling her nipple as her head flopped back again. Having her raise her head to look at him, her eyes fierce, her teeth bared, as if she were preparing for battle was turning him on.

  She reared up, grabbing his arm as her second orgasm began to take her. “Fuck me harder,” she growled just as the teeth of her orgasm slammed into her. She fell back with a brief wail, her cry of pleasure sliding into a growl of passion as she gripped the linens.

  “Fuck!” he barked, pulling out of her before she made him come again. He dragged her back up onto the bed, and flipped her over. She tried to rise but he drove her down, his hand in the middle of her back preventing her from rising again as he straddled her legs and steered his cock into her again.

  She hissed in pleasure as he entered her, pushing in deep then clamping his legs strongly against her own. It was a technique smaller men used to make themselves feel bigger, but it made him feel gigantic! He leaned into her back with both hands, pinning her to the bed. She strained to rise, twisting her hips to try to dislodge him, but he was too big, too strong, and powered through her efforts with barely a break in his strokes.

  “Fuck!” he snarled again, dropping to her back, wrapping her up as he buried his face in her neck. He was losing control.

  Peyton grunted as his weight pressed her into the bed, but she loved the feel of his hard body pressed tightly against hers. His gasps, grunts and pants as he pounded into her, the feel of his thick arms wrapped around her, the feel of his sweat against her back, all combined to make her soar. It was her fantasy lover made real, fucking her as she only dreamed she could be fucked, controlling her, taking her for his pleasure but not actually hurting her. She began to growl, adding her sounds of passion to his own.

  Her animal-like growls of passion ignited a blaze in him like none he had experienced. He began to fuck her as hard as he could, holding nothing back, letting himself go, fucking without worrying about hurting her.

  Her orgasm crashed over her with such force she couldn’t even cry out, the strength of the rapture stealing her breath. Her teeth bared in a silent snarl of pleasure as she battled the pleasure, waiting for it to release her, and still he fucked her, fucking her hard and deep, grunting and panting as he took her for his own.

  He shuddered then froze, pushing deep into her, pushing against the orgasm, fighting the pleasure crackling through his body until finally the hovering climax subsided. He hadn’t come but it had been a near thing. He pulled out of her and flopped to his back, panting like a bellows.

  She slowly rose from the bed, still recovering from her orgasm, and turned to face him. He was pushing his hair out of his eyes with both hands, glistening with sweat, his huge cock begging to be kissed. She moved to take him into her mouth but he caught her and pulled her up higher and twisting her around so her back was to him. She settled over him, taking him inside again, leaning back onto her hands as he began to fuck her again, driving his cock into her hard and fast.

  He pounded into her, his breath becoming harder and more ragged, his hands on her breasts gripping and massaging, his fingers tickling the nipples.

  “Shit!” she hissed, then grunted as another orgasm began to rise up inside of her.

  “You want me to come?” he grunted.

  “Not yet!”

  He pounded into her a moment longer before he dumped her to the bed. She started to rise to straddle him again, but he pushed her back as he moved between her legs. He fell over her, wrapping her up as he had on her back, panting into her neck. She crossed her legs over his back and locked her ankles, squeezing him tight, making him work to thrust into her, thr
illing in the fact that he was so powerful she couldn’t stop him from fucking her.

  “Fuck!” he roared into her neck as he came, driving with his leg with some deep-seated need to come as deeply in her as possible.

  He crushed the breath of out her as he shuddered and shook, every muscle in his body rippling with the power of his orgasm. She held tight to him as he pressed hard into her, waiting, waiting, the press of his hips into hers, the feel of his cock touching her so deep, finally snipping the thread holding her orgasm back. She groaned as her climax rolled over her, clinging to him in that moment of perfect pleasure, until they relaxed together with an explosive release of breath.

  ***

  “Whiteshirt, see if you can find the handcuffs and leg irons,” Ironside said as Peyton showered. He hoped Whiteshirt knew where they were, or if they still had them. He hadn’t seen them in the last eight years, not since the last time they used them when they were interrogating a Saracens.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m not taking any chances with her tonight.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Chain her to the bed.”

  “Then fuck her?” he teased.

  Ironside smiled. “Already did that. So I can sleep without worrying about her stabbing me in the chest or slipping away.”

  Whiteshirt sighed. “Would that be so bad? I know where they are, but I don’t know why you don’t just put her on a train, or take her back, or do something. Why are you keeping her around?”

  “Tomorrow. I’m not convinced she’s telling the truth, but I’m not convinced she’s lying either. If she’s lying, she’s sticking to it and not wavering.”

  Whiteshirt was quiet a moment, then let out a breath. “I’ll have someone run them over to you.”

  ***

  “What are those for?” Peyton asked as Ironside stepped back from the door, a length of chain in his hands.

  “You.”

  “Me! What are you going to do?” she asked, her eyes wide and her voice shaky.

  “I’m not going to hurt you, but I don’t trust you either. I’m going to chain you to the guest bed.”

  “I thought we’d sleep together. Maybe have another go later.”

  He laughed. “Not a chance.”

  “What do you think I’m going to do, slit your throat?”

  “The thought occurred to me.”

  She thought furiously but couldn’t see a way out, so she tried the obvious. “I thought we shared something.”

  He chuckled. “Don’t even try it. I told you I knew what you were doing. It didn’t work. Let’s go.”

  “Wait! Just wait a minute! I didn’t sign up for being chained up!”

  “It’s either this or I knock your ass out. Your choice.”

  “You’re a complete asshole, you know that?” she snarled.

  “So I’ve been told. What’s it going to be?”

  She fumed a moment. “Chains.”

  “Let’s go.”

  ***

  He had to drag the bed closer to the bathroom, but she could reach the toilet, and while the cuff on her ankle was tight enough she couldn’t get it off, it wasn’t so tight to actually hurt. She’d spent the last fifteen minutes trying to get the cuff off her foot, and then another ten trying to get the other cuff off the bed, but she’d finally given up. It was no use. She was stuck.

  She flopped on the bed in frustration. Her dream lover turned out to be as big a douche bag as Andrew. With no phone and no way to escape, she decided she might as well sleep. She lay in the bed, fretting over what would happen to her in the morning, but eventually the darkness of sleep pulled its veil over her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “How’d you sleep?” Ironside asked as he unlocked the cuff around her ankle.

  “Why do you care?” Peyton asked as she rubbed her ankle a moment.

  “I don’t.”

  “Then fuck you.”

  “You already did that.”

  “Yeah, well, it was a mistake.”

  “One of several.”

  “What’s going to happen now?”

  “Now? Now we’re going to have breakfast, then I’m going to take you to the clubhouse. You’re going to answer some questions, then I’m going to turn you loose.”

  She stared at him a moment. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So you’re just going to let me walk away if I answer some questions? You could have done that last night.”

  “I didn’t say I would let you walk away. If you give us some good intel on the Saracens, I’m inclined to believe you about this Melissa chick, and I will take you to the train station. If I think you’re lying, I’m going to finish what Honey couldn’t, then I’m chucking your ass off on the south side of I-90 as a warning to other Saracen bitches who wander into Knights territory.”

  “I’m not leaving without Melissa!”

  Ironside shrugged. “Then you can wait for her at the train station. Either way, not my problem anymore.”

  She stood up. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  ***

  “What do you know about the guns the Saracens buy?” Whiteshirt asked.

  “Nothing. I didn’t even know they ran guns. Drugs either. I’ve told you that already,” Peyton replied.

  Dolch, the Knights Sergeant at Arms propped on the table. “So you’ve said. You don’t know much about anything.”

  “What part of me saying I don’t know anything are you having trouble understanding? I have said all along that I don’t know anything. I’m was there for one reason.”

  “Which was?” Whiteshirt asked.

  “Because I had nowhere else to go.”

  “There are women’s shelters all over the city.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t need counseling. I needed a place to sleep and food to eat, and I was willing to trade my body for that. For a while anyway.”

  “Who did you say was the Vice President?”

  “Pogo. I don’t know his real name. Just like I don’t know Dolch’s real name.”

  “How do you know that isn’t his name?”

  “Dolch? That’s German for dagger. Call it a guess.”

  The three men chuckled. “Conrad Fischer,” Dolch said.

  “Why didn’t Melissa show up?” Whiteshirt asked.

  “I don’t know. I wish I did. I’m afraid something happened to her.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know that either.”

  “Do girls disappear a lot?”

  “I’ve heard rumors, but I’ve not see it myself. I’ve only been there a few weeks.”

  “Four, right?”

  “Three. Well, three and a few days.”

  They were circling back over the same ground. If she was lying to them, she was well briefed. She’d told them a couple of tidbits of information they didn’t know, such as a rough count of the number of active members, a crude sketch of the inside of their clubhouse, and that the club left in force every Wednesday after lunch, but nothing very useful. She’d also confirmed, corrected or claimed ignorance on every question they asked her to try to trip her up.

  They men were looking at each other when her phone rang. “Who’s Andrew?” Ironside asked as the name appeared on the display.

  “A friend,” she said, trying to be calm.

  “You better answer it then. Put it on speaker,” he said, his voice as cold as an artic wind.

  “Hey, Baby! Where are you?” the voice on the phone asked.

  “I stayed with a friend last night. I got drunk and passed out.”

  There was a pause. “A friend, huh?” Andrew asked, his voice cool. “What’s her name?”

  “Honey. I met her at a bar and we sort of got close. You know how it is.”

  “Uh-huh. Where are you now?”

  “Still there.”

  “Where’s there?”

  “I don’t know. I was drunk, remember? But I’ll be
back there pretty soon, I think,” she said as the three men glared at her.

  “We’ll talk about this when you get back.”

  “I’m sure we will,” she said softly when he was gone.

  “That was Andrew Moore,” Ironside said.

  “Yeah.”

  “You’ve been lying to us all along.”

  “No!”

  “Funny how you failed to mention something like you were Andrew’s old lady.”